<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Blanket by lizleenimbus</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25248025">Blanket</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizleenimbus/pseuds/lizleenimbus'>lizleenimbus</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blankets, Comfort, Episode: s11e03 The Bad Seed, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Pies, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Tropes, post attack dog spell, tropey mctroperson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:06:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,473</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25248025</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizleenimbus/pseuds/lizleenimbus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Even though Cas has recovered from Rowena's attack-dog spell, Dean is still worried. He wants to be useful, but still struggles to figure out how to do that for an angel. It turns out that blankets and pies, unsurprisingly, are part of the solution.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>413</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Blanket</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Just another ficlet to accompany a piece of fanart I did; this one takes place just after Cas gets over the attack-dog spell, inspired by that teeny tiny blanket scene that gave me so many feels. I do this for fun, to give my draws more context so fair warning: it's likely full of clichés and unrepentant fluff. I hope someone enjoys :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The second he reached the doorframe, heavy wool blanket dangling pointlessly from his arms, he felt stupid. This had all been such a<em> stupid </em> idea. </p><p>What the hell was he thinking? Dean’s attempts were damn near laughable, but he’d felt so- well. It didn’t matter. Cas was cured now. No more rabid red-eyed Hulk smashing, no more fever, and certainly no more need for Dean’s paltry human comforts. Rowena had seen to that with a few fancy words and a wave of her perfectly manicured fingers, before poofing off into oblivion. That was a problem that would surely bite them in the ass with all its ginger might later, but a more pressing one was at hand. </p><p>Namely that Cas had already spotted him standing there like an utter jackass through the open door. He set his book down and smiled. </p><p>“Dean. Come in,” he greeted warmly. His voice still sounded a bit rougher than usual, and that was saying something. Dude sounded like he gargled shrapnel on the regular (not that Dean minded).  </p><p>“Oh uh, hey Cas.” </p><p>“What brings you to these parts?” he asked wryly, finger-quoting for good measure. </p><p>As amused as he was by the cowboyism, Dean was totally outgunned. The twitchy need to flee chewed at his innards, but he was pinned by Cas’ earnest gaze. </p><p>“Just uh, I was passing by and thought I should, uh… check on you, I guess.  I know you’re all tanked up now though so I’ll just-” </p><p>“I’m alright, but thank you. That’s kind of you, Dean,” Cas interrupted. </p><p>He seemed so frankly pleased by this small development that Dean was thrown for a loop, somewhere out near Saturn.</p><p>“Well uhm, yeah,” he blundered on, “of course. You’ve had a rough couple of days.” </p><p>At this reminder Cas’ expression faltered, and Dean cursed himself for the faux-pas. There was silence long enough for Dean to wonder if he should just cut his losses and leave. His feet unconsciously shuffled backwards, but he stopped himself at Castiel’s crestfallen look. </p><p>“That poor woman must have been terrified.” the angel finally muttered. His eyes were glazed over, likely in somber visitation of those terrible events from the days prior. This was the first indication that Cas hadn’t quite recovered. His fingers still shook, and his facade had easily cracked.</p><p>“Cas…she was fine in the end. We got to you in time,” Dean reassured him. </p><p>“The funny thing is,” Cas continued, “I don’t even know who to ask for forgiveness, anymore… or if the weight of my sins can even truly be forgiven.” </p><p>He chuckled darkly, bringing a hand to knead at his wrinkled brow.</p><p>This time, Dean did move forward to sit beside him, quavering confidence be damned. Christ, there wasn’t much he could say to something like that, but he was no stranger to bearing the weight of countless atrocities on one’s shoulders. Sometimes it helped just to have someone there.</p><p>“None of that was your fault.” At Cas’ silence, he pressed on. “To be honest, I was more worried about you.” </p><p>“Well, as you said,” Cas sighed eventually, the resignation evident in his tone, “you got to me in time.” </p><p>His smile was thin, but genuine. </p><p>“Yeah.” Dean agreed. </p><p>He swallowed hard as he recalled the relief he felt in that damned warehouse, at seeing the angel’s features return to normal between his hands… to see the bloodshot frenzy finally ebb beneath his sad eyes. He’d done exactly jackshit to help with that, but in that moment he’d been so immensely grateful that the guilt hadn’t even set in until much later. </p><p>“What’s that?” Cas asked, pointing at the itchy stretch of material perched on Dean’s lap. </p><p>“Oh uh… nevermind. Just a dumb idea.” </p><p>Cas’ sharply raised eyebrow egged him on, but how was he supposed to answer? </p><p>
  <em> ‘Hey buddy, I thought maybe you’d want to have this blanket because it felt really good to take care of you for once, and I thought we could pointlessly recreate that for my own selfish reasons?’ </em>
</p><p>Obviously there was no way in any dimension he was going to go with that but-</p><p>“Dean?” </p><p>“Look, I dunno. I brought it for you, ‘cause it seemed to help last time. But I get that you’re all good now so ….”</p><p>“Oh,” Cas said solemnly. He looked as though he’d come to some deep conclusion that Dean feared more than a den of freshly-hatched vamplings. “Thank you.”  </p><p>“Yeah, great. So I’ll let you get on with your uh… what is that,<em> Live Laugh, Love </em>?” he deflected.</p><p>“<em>‘Bake, Eat and Rejoice’ </em>, actually,” Cas corrected him. “It’s a collection of testimonial essays about the history of baking as both a result and expression of culture.” </p><p>“Of course it is,” Dean smirked.</p><p>“You would like it. It contains pie.”</p><p>“Uhuh,” he said, swiftly regaining his feet. He had to escape the incoming tidal wave of embarrassment, or at least hide the wooly evidence for all time. </p><p>“Dean,” Cas halted him, suddenly taking hold of the itchy fabric and pulling until he reached Dean’s wrist. Dean felt the contact like a current sizzling all over his skin. He also found himself captivated by the slight tremor animating Cas’ fingers… how the angel suddenly couldn’t look at him despite years of staring-related transgressions. </p><p>“...Yeah?” </p><p>There was a long pause before Cas seemed to steel himself, and Dean found that his nerves were humming right alongside him. </p><p>“I could read you some. If you wanted. I would… be grateful for the company.”</p><p>The offer was so unexpected that Dean froze for a few moments. There were layers to it he didn’t quite know what to do with, and honestly didn’t care to unravel just then. The only thought coming in crystal clear was how unusually vulnerable Cas looked in that moment, like it had taken everything out of him to ask… Like perhaps Dean had been correct to worry a little after all.</p><p>“Sure, Cas. Sounds good,” he smiled. “Shove over.” </p><p>Before he could talk himself out of it, he settled himself carefully behind the angel and, cheeks pinking, wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. He was grateful that Cas couldn’t really see him from this vantage because his face outright began to scorch once he’d decided not to retract his arms. Instead, he squeezed the Cas’ solid figure with what he hoped was a fortifying hug. This was perilously outside the scope of things he’d thought possible with Cas, but he was encouraged when the angel seemed to melt back against him with a relieved sigh, and gently squeezed his arm in response. Nevermind that Dean’s heart was thrumming faster than a hummingbird’s wing, or that Cas smelled so fucking good - like sticky summer thunderstorms - that he was tempted to throw caution to the wind and bury his face in the guy’s neck like an amorous tick. For now, he managed to content himself with the warm, comforting press of closeness. It was far more than he deserved, but he was glad to do it for Cas’ sake. </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>“Greece or Egypt?” </p><p>“I uh, what?” Dean blinked. </p><p>Cas’ shoulders quaked softly as he chuckled.</p><p>“There’s contention between historians regarding the sources of pie,” he clarified solemnly. “Some say Ancient Egypt, some say Ancient Greece. What do you think?” </p><p>“You’re askin’ me? <em> You’re </em> the guy who’s a billion years old. Hell, <em> you </em> probably BAKED the first one - which gives you points in my book by the way - even though it was probably made of rocks and sticks or something.” </p><p>“I'd be offended at that, but I wasn’t much for pastry back then, unfortunately.” </p><p>And, just because he could in this strange little moment they’d chiseled out, Dean hugged at Cas’ firm frame once more, tilting his head so that his lips might hover next to his ear.</p><p>“Didn’t have a taste for us humans yet, huh?” </p><p>“You make it sound as though I’m carnivorous,” was Cas’ mild reproach, accented by a playful shove of elbows. Dean relished it entirely, even though he'd have to reckon with the fact that he’d kind of just half-flirted with the angel later. Future Dean could deal with that. </p><p>“But no. I was fascinated of course, but not allowed to participate. There was never a good enough reason to disobey, back then anyway.” he added significantly. </p><p>Dean's vast sense of unworthiness immediately clamped his throat shut, but with Cas’ fingers leisurely caressing the freckled expanse of his forearm for a long, quiet moment, his opinion soon became moot. </p><p>“Well Cas,” Dean eventually grinned, “If this blanket proves anything, it’s that you probably looked pretty decent in a toga. I vote Ancient Greece.”</p><p>Their proximity caused Cas’ sudden peal of rumbling laughter to reverberate into his own chest, and it was probably one of the most wondrous things Dean had ever felt. </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>